


swimming up against the tide

by wintervoice



Series: we'll be a fine line [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, bodyguard!poe, prince!ben, shipwrecked and forced to discuss unresolved FEELINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintervoice/pseuds/wintervoice
Summary: “My mother will send a rescue party, won’t she?” Ben asked, hobbling under a low hanging branch.“Yes.”Poe’s answer was swift and he didn’t look at him, but Ben could feel the worry coming off of him in waves. They were on an unknown planet in the Outer Rim without a comm or a ship to fly home. He was lying to give Ben a little undeserved comfort because, as they were discovering on their hike through the jungle, this little strip of land appeared to be the only one around for miles. It would take a miracle to untangle them from this mess.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: we'll be a fine line [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724296
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	swimming up against the tide

Poe woke to an icy spray of water slapping together just above his head. In his panic, he swallowed a mouthful of seawater and surfaced above the waves with a strangled gasp, arms and legs thrashing and fingers sinking into the wet sand. He was waterlogged and heavy but slogged his way to the shore, collapsing onto solid ground with a curse and a groan. 

He lost his balance more than once when he tried to push himself to his feet, sucking in hard gulps of air, and eventually settled for kneeling in the seafoam, his eyes desperately searching his surroundings. He’d landed near a little strip of land shrouded in gray clouds, gray sand, and gray water. The ship had crashed on the other end of the beach. It was smoldering, rain quickly extinguishing the orange-blue flames of the fuel sparked fire, and he remembered Ben, brow furrowed in concentration and hand extended, had tossed him free with the Force during its quick descent. 

He finally rose to his feet with another hasty, off-balance lurch, and ran down the beach. It wasn’t a large ship by any means, made up of a few holds, bunks for the crew, and an engine room, but it was big enough that he wasted valuable time searching the wreckage for Ben, who was nowhere to be found. All he found was the body of one of the bounty hunters that had captured them on Rishi, looking to ransom the last prince of Alderaan back to his mother in exchange for enough credits to carry them into the good life.

“Ben!” 

His voice was stolen by the wind and the waves. Both crashed violently against the rocky shoreline as he rubbed a hand down his face, trying to keep the heavy droplets of rainwater out of his eyes. 

“Ben!” 

Poe found him only a few moments later, tossed across an outcropping of rocks and driftwood. Ben had apparently had enough strength of consciousness to yank himself halfway onto a large stone, but his body was motionless when Poe knelt down next to him. He yanked at him and watched Ben flip unceremoniously, limp and pale, and felt his heart fall out of his chest. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Ben registered when he regained consciousness was a violent burning in his lungs. The second was a cold, solid presence just above him. Rough fingers gripped his nose and tilted his head back. Steady, warm puffs of air passed through the rough, salt-crusted lips pressed against his own. Ben pushed against the other man’s shoulder, trying to find purchase in the sand so he could dislodge the seawater clogging his throat. 

He flailed like a fish, the heavy fabric of his ceremonial robes dancing sluggishly in the waves and weighing him down. Poe unhooked the ties of his cloak for him and Ben rolled, sputtering on the last bit of bitter water left in his body. A long, ugly shudder raced down his spine. 

“Come on,” Poe’s voice was barely audible above the crashing waves and the rushing in his ears. “We’ve got to find shelter.”

But Ben couldn’t move. He could barely sit up. “I can’t.”

“Like hell you can’t,” Poe was relentless, scrambling to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. “Get up.”

He got as far as his knees before he doubled over. He clutched at the spot beneath his rib cage, the spot that throbbed with pain, and felt an echo of it in his leg. He was some horrible combination of sliced open and broken that brought a rush of memories to the forefront of his mind. 

He vaguely recalled trying to lurch to his feet under the grip of a humanoid man injecting him with some sort of sedative, could recall the handle of a blaster colliding roughly with his skull when it didn’t take fast enough and the blinking stars that had flooded his vision when he’d slumped forward. Poe had been struggling too, shouting something Ben couldn’t make out over the loud _thrum_ in his head. The bounty hunters that had recognized him on Rishi stared down at them both, Poe with his hands bound and Ben with a wet, bloody mess on the back of his head, barely conscious, when they’d tossed out _kill the guard because he’ll only slow us down_. The ship had started to shake with the power of the Force on a few moments later. 

Ben pulled his hand away from his side. His palm was red. He tried to stand again, rolling forward on his knees and felt his mouth go slack. The world started to tilt uncomfortably. 

“Hey. Hey, stay awake, buddy. Stay awake.”

Ben focused on the familiar line of Poe’s jaw as he helped him to his feet. He slumped against him, too tall and heavy for Poe to carry, and tried to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. 

  
  
  


Ben did stay awake, somehow, until they made their way inside the downed ship, but they only made it just inside the main hold before Poe couldn’t hold him up any longer. Ben slid down the wall until he collapsed against the rough decking, hair a wet tangle across his pale face. His skin was smooth, like marble, his lips a dangerous combination of white and blue. 

“Hey,” Poe repeated. He smacked gently at Ben’s face, trying to rouse him, and felt another surge of panic at just how clammy Ben’s skin felt beneath his touch. “Don’t pass out.”

Ben moaned low in his throat, his breathing shallow. 

Poe turned and ran into what remained of the galley, tearing open consoles and cabinets until he found the medpack that was fairly standard on ships this size. He dropped to his knees again beside Ben, dumping the contents out as quickly as he could, and weighed his options. All he had were wet bandages, disinfectant spray, two containers of bacta, and a field cauterizer. 

He eased Ben’s shoulder back, forcing him into a reclining position, and caught his head before it could crash against the ground. Ben was dead weight, so Poe had to tear his robes away. There was a long gash across his abdomen. It was the same length as Poe’s hand and deep, so deep there was still blood gushing, but it was a surprisingly clean wound. Poe was hardly a medic and these weren’t exactly sterile conditions, but he worked his own belt loose and shoved it between Ben’s teeth, ordering him to bite down. 

There was nothing to numb the surrounding area. Ben’s resulting cry and full-body jerk as the disinfectant cleaned the wound and the cauterizer sealed it shut were enough to make Poe wince, but he held him still as best he could and prayed it would be enough. His leg was next. His ankle was bent at an alarming angle, so Poe removed his boot and sock, set it against a brace near the bottom of the medpack, and tied it with a bandage. It was crude, but it would have to do. 

When he was done, Poe slumped back against the wall beside him and watched the slow rise and fall of Ben’s chest. 

Where the hell were they? 

  
  
  


Ben was shocked to learn that dying wasn’t so bad. He was shivering, hot and cold all at once, but he could feel the warmth of a body next to his own. His clothes were plastered to his skin, crusty from saltwater, but so was Poe. Or rather Poe was curled against his back, one arm flung over his waist, his nose pressed against Ben’s neck. There was a medpack case shoved beneath their heads. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep or why they were cuddled close together on the floor of the ship, but he moved and a tremor of pain wracked his entire body and suddenly everything came rushing back into sharp focus. 

He wasn’t dying, but he wished he was. It would have been a heroic death. Escaping from a group of ruffians that meant to sell him to the highest bidder or ransom him for a reward would make an excellent story for future generations. 

There would be no future generations without him, of course, but that detail didn’t seem overly important as he jerked and then groaned, accidentally tugging at the wounded skin of his side. Poe grunted in response to the elbow that collided with his chest when Ben shifted. 

“Stop that,” Poe said, far off and familiar. Ben’s only response was a strangled _frag_ because the world was swaying again. Poe’s face was blurry when he lifted his head. The wind and rain were still howling, but they were further inside the wreckage and mostly out of the storm. “We either stay close together or we’ll die of hypothermia.”

Ben would have protested, but his vision went spotty and the bottom fell out of the world. Every so often, he felt a calloused hand against his feverish brow or fingers resting against the tender skin on the inside of his wrist to check his pulse. He was given some kind of antibiotic med that tasted like manufactured jelly on his tongue. 

When he finally woke again, it was with a throbbing skull. He had to blink a few times; his eyes were gummed shut and bleary. 

Poe was standing at the unnatural opening of the ship. It was a direct result of the hull being torn in two when Ben realized their captors didn’t intend to keep Poe alive. He heard Ben move and turned, closing the distance between them in a few strides. 

“Where,” Ben tried to say, but his lips and mouth were dry. The _W_ was nothing more than a whisper and the _here_ was a croak. Poe handed him a canteen of water and Ben gulped it down and asked, “Where are we?”

“Don’t know,” Poe said. He winced when Ben took another swig of water. “The nav system on the ship is busted. Comm system, too. We could be anywhere.”

“How long was I out?” 

“Two standard days,” Poe took the canteen this time when Ben pressed it to his lips. “There’s rations and foodstuff, a little fresh water, but not much.” 

Ben understood. “Signs of intelligent life?”

Poe shook his head. “None so far.”

  
  
  
  


The heat of the island made the air thick and heavy. With the storm gone, the sun bore down heavily on the beach. The wet metal of the ship made a hissing noise as it dried out. Poe thought it sounded a little mocking. 

By the fourth day, Ben had given up on his attempt to don the outer layers of his clothes completely. He insisted that it was only right that he put them back on and Poe had shrugged, not much caring if he sweltered under the heat. Alderaanian fashion was a confection of heavy, brocade fabrics woven together in ornate designs and while he always looked regal in his blue and white robes, with his dark hair meticulously braided in whatever fashion he saw fit, those memories were a stark contrast to the way his skin turned red and began to peel under the relentless sun once Poe helped him hobble his way out of the ship. 

Poe stripped down to his waist, carefully folding his shirt, uniform jacket, and socks and placing them out of the elements. His boots sat next to the pile of clothing. He didn’t mind the heat — Yavin 4 was worse in the summer than this — but it certainly wasn’t comforting. 

He helped remove as many layers as Ben was willing to shed and when he was down to his trousers and a thin, white undershirt with cropped sleeves, Poe checked his ankle for improvements. He applied a little more bacta when he saw the way Ben’s face contorted in pain. It wasn’t enough to heal, but it would speed up the process. 

When Poe pointed out that he needed to go search for a source of food and water on the fifth day, Ben scoffed. 

“You’re going to leave me here?”

Poe gestured to his leg. “You can barely walk.”

“Exactly. What if I’m attacked while you’re gone?”

“Who is going to attack you?”

“I don’t know,” Ben crossed his arms over his chest and turned his face toward the ocean. “One of the bounty hunters that captured us could still be alive. The planet could have cannibalistic natives. What if I’m captured and eaten for lunch?”

“You’d make a terrible lunch,” Poe tossed a canteen into his pack. It was only a quarter full. “They’ll save you for dinner.”

Ben was less than amused. “That’s not funny.” 

“Meaning I’d have plenty of time to stage a rescue before you’re eaten,” Poe added. 

Ben hummed in response, which was a little shocking. He was never one to hold back a clever quip or retort. Poe glanced at the treeline up the shore, then back at Ben, and sighed. 

“If you slow me down,” Poe started after tossing his shirt and boots back on, “I’m going to bring you back.”

  
  
  


Ben did slow him down. They had to stop twice so he could rest and dab at the sweat that had gathered on his brow. The wound on his side was healing nicely but it still screamed in protest if he moved too quickly. He could bear weight on his ankle, thanks to the bacta, but he still had to favor his other leg. 

The island wasn’t very large and by the time they trekked from one end to the other, all they had discovered was a stream of freshwater and the usual vegetation of an island like this. The plants were too unfamiliar to safely judge which they could eat. Local fauna seemed scarce. 

“My mother will send a rescue party, won’t she?” Ben asked, hobbling under a low hanging branch. 

“Yes.”

Poe’s answer was swift and he didn’t look at him, but Ben could feel the worry coming off of him in waves. They were on an unknown planet in the Outer Rim without a comm or a ship to fly home. He was lying to give Ben a little undeserved comfort because, as they were discovering on their hike through the jungle, this little strip of land appeared to be the only one around for miles. It would take a miracle to untangle them from this mess. 

  
  
  


That evening, Ben sat on the beach and concentrated, eyes closed, until three small fish rose from the ocean and landed at his feet. He bent to retrieve them, passing them to Poe and gathered enough wood in the same fashion to start a small fire. The Force was an inconvenience to Ben, Poe knew, but he could ignite the small branches with a little quirk of his nose and it meant they’d have a meal that wasn’t manufactured, so Poe thought it very useful given their circumstances. 

“Someone will come looking for us,” Ben said again later. 

“They’ll come looking for _you_ ,” Poe corrected. He was an afterthought at best and would be dealt with as such. He expected to be immediately relieved of his duties as Ben’s personal guard as soon as they were found. “But they’ll have to figure out something went wrong first. Might take a while.”

Ben sat very still, his hair blowing in the breeze. His eyes glowed nearly yellow in the firelight. “I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in danger when I don’t arrive in time for the wedding.”

Poe scowled. “Of course.”

Ben fiddled with a twig, twirling it between his finger and thumb, and Poe tried not to think about the last time the word wedding had been brought up in casual conversation between them. There was a familiar surge of anger in his chest at the memory. Ben had admitted he’d accepted a marriage proposal so nonchalantly that Poe had assumed he was joking until he realized Ben wouldn’t look at him. Three months later and he was supposed to be escorting Ben to his wedding when he realized Ben had programmed Rishi into the nav system of the ship in an effort to have one last hair-brained adventure before he spent the rest of his life in a marriage of convenience. 

Ben tossed the twig into the dying fire. “Or they’ll assume we ran away together to elope.”

Poe turned to look at him, horrified. He hadn’t considered that. “They wouldn’t.”

“They would. Everyone knows I’m in love with you,” his voice was detached. Bored, even. “Mother knows. The guard knows. I’m fairly certain my blushing bride knows and we’ve never met.”

“Is that why…” Poe didn’t have to finish the question. The missing piece of the puzzle snapped into place. “That’s why you changed the course to Rishi. You planned this.”

“I didn’t plan for the bounty hunters,” Ben shrugged. “Or the shipwreck.” 

“No, I guess not,” Poe said. 

Ben looked at him then, his expression unreadable behind the flickering flames, and said nothing. 

  
  
  
  
  


Ben knew, in the end, that it was his fault. The only reason Poe had raced down the boarding ramp behind him was because he assumed Ben would be dead or lost within an hour. In fact, Poe had offered nothing more than a reflexive arch of his brow and a shrug, insisting he didn’t care if Ben wanted to go trapezing through the sleaze dens of Rishi. In fact, he could go and get himself kriffing killed, Poe had said, and he wouldn’t care. 

But Poe fell into step beside him, blaster hidden beneath his jacket, and Ben had felt the slow crawl of a smile stretch across his lips, thoroughly satisfied by this course of events. He was a prince, after all, and used to getting his way. 

“Stop that,” Poe had said, leveling a glare as they moved away from the docking station and into the hustle of the central part of the city. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“We’re going to comm your mother and explain why we’re late,” Poe continued, ignoring the smug lilt of Ben’s voice. 

“Sure,” Ben carefully led them down to the lower part of town, adjusting the scarf around the lower half of his face. It was stifling, the material coarse and scratchy against his neck, mouth, and nose. Half of his brain said he had no reason to be concerned. The other half, however, knew he towered above most of the inhabitants. He would be easy to describe should something go wrong.

Poe allowed Ben to lead, just this once, and Ben could almost see the annoyance buzzing around his temples. He reached out tentatively with the Force to find that Poe’s thoughts were a jumbled mess of conflict. He wanted Ben to be happy, but he also loathed Ben, loathed what Ben was doing to them by marrying some girl he’d never met, and loathed that Ben had ruined Poe’s career. Years of service in the Navy and then years of service tethered to an Organa, just like Shara had been, and now it was all for nothing. 

Ben winced a little against the bitterness of Poe’s internal monologue. Now he was thinking about how he wished there had been another Organa in need of a bodyguard. Someone that wasn’t prone to latent acts of rebellion when he was nearly thirty. A princess, perhaps, because then Poe wouldn’t choke on the knowledge that he loved someone who could never be his. 

“Knock it off,” Poe said, rubbing at his temples. He hated when Ben entered his thoughts uninvited and while his anger wasn’t black, it also wasn’t the flippant, easily forgotten anger he often experienced around Ben. 

They ducked inside a cantina shoved between a butcher and a dodgy vendor that claimed to sell relics of the Old Republic. It was dim and dark inside, just the kind of place a scoundrel might order a drink or a lackluster meal. Ben watched as Poe’s dark gaze drifted from the bar to the tables near the back, scanning the occupants for a familiar face and any sign of danger. When he found neither, Ben led them toward the back and they sat down at a vacant booth. They ate and they drank, Poe far less than Ben, and it wasn’t long before he was leaning back against Poe’s chest, Poe’s arm over his shoulder and Ben was kissing at Poe’s cheek, suddenly bolstered with confidence in the low, yellow-tinged light. 

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Poe said, tugging down the scarf Ben wore and turning his chin in one movement so that Ben’s lips caught on the rough stubble along his jaw unencumbered by the fabric. His hand was sliding up Ben’s thigh. 

“Are you sure?” Ben asked, pressing another kiss to just below his ear. 

“Think you’ll have to earn my forgiveness this time,” Poe unwound the scarf until it hung casually at the back of Ben’s neck. He twisted the fabric around his fingers, winding it until he angled Ben exactly the way he wanted him: pressed close, knees knocking together, Ben’s lips against his neck. “And you’ll have to get creative,” he added, almost an afterthought. 

“I can do that.” 

They stumbled back out onto the street with the end goal of getting back to the ship as quickly as possible, too wrapped up in each other to realize that, without the scarf, Ben’s prominent brow and dark, braided hair were recognizable from the various holos of his face commonly circulated, even in this region of the galaxy. 

Ben had been shocked with some sort of modified stunner that jolted all the way down to his bones. Poe was handy in a skirmish but was no match for three sentient beings, two of which were even larger than Ben. They were hauled up and carried off, out of atmo before either of them knew what was happening. They hadn’t made it very far before the ship had malfunctioned, terrifying the bounty hunters enough that they started their descent, and Ben had torn the ship in two. 

  
  
  
  


“I’ve always thought the sea was beautiful,” Ben commented. “My mother took me to Varykino when I was younger, you know.”

“Those are lakes,” Poe said, his voice cracking. He needed to make a run for water, but another storm had blown in. It had been raging for the better part of three standard days, so he’d let Ben have a majority of their supply.

“I know they’re lakes,” Ben continued, a sarcastic edge to his statement. He was hunched as far away from Poe as could be managed in the confined space, the madpack case under his head, his back to Poe. “I meant that large bodies of water are beautiful. So long as they’re not teaming with hurricanes.”

Poe glanced over at him, licking his dry lips. There was something in Ben’s voice that made him pause. He reached out to graze his arm and Ben shuddered under his touch, shoulders quivering. He was crying, Poe realized. 

“We’re going to die here,” Ben said suddenly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben…”

“Don’t,” he commanded when Poe moved closer. 

Even with the tears rubbing his throat raw, it was said with more than enough authority that Poe pulled his hand away. There was an odd churning of acid in his middle. He curled his hands into fists and stared at the roof of the ship, trying to ignore the muffled sound of Ben’s weeping. 

  
  
  
  


Ben slept but it felt like a death-sleep, like the ones in the old stories his mother had read him when he was a boy. There was a princess in one particular tale that slept for a hundred years while the world moved around her and Ben thought, blearily, that the galaxy would continue to whirl even if they never made it home. 

There was another thought at the base of his skull that felt like a reassuring hand on the back of his head that spurned another fond memory: Leia allowing him to lay his head in her lap while she stroked his hair, gently easing his anxiety and frustration. The thought tickled now, like something not quite within reach, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and he swore he could feel the ghost of her fingertips in his hair. 

  
  
  
  
  


The wind and water crashed against the hull of the ship for two more days before Poe finally went for water. Ben offered, of course, but his ankle was still healing and Poe never would have let him go anyway. When he ducked back under the cover of the ship, Ben had moved to sit at the little table in the galley. He sat on a makeshift chair made of two crates stacked one on top of the other, but it could have been a throne. His hair fell in dense, careful waves around his face, not a strand out of place even though it hadn’t been properly washed or styled in weeks. 

Ben’s fingers traced invisible patterns in the metal, even after Poe stripped out of his jacket and boots. He padded across the room to put a canteen down in front of Ben. 

“Drink something.”

Ben pushed the canteen away. 

“Hey,” Poe said. He felt the heat of Ben’s glare on his back as he unloaded the rest of the water. Four canteens full. Hopefully the storm would pass before he’d need to find the stream again. “You’re wrong. We’re not going to die here.”

“Oh? Have you fixed the comm system?”

Poe glanced at the discarded wires he’d been uselessly toying with and shook his head. “No.”

Ben’s answer was almost instantaneous. “Then we’re going to die here.” 

“Well,” Poe’s tone was edging on frustrated. “With an attitude like that, we will.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben was working his hands together, long fingers flexing. “Am I not optimistic enough about our inevitable demise?”

“I’m not asking for optimism,” Poe said. “But you aren’t going to spend the next few days moping —”

“ _Moping_?”

“Yes,” he continued. “You’re content to waste away here. I’m not. We’re going to find a way off this planet and then —”

“And then,” Ben’s voice shifted again, as did his posture. Poe braced himself. He recognized the squaring of his shoulders and the twitch just below his left eye. He was going to say something cruel. “I’m going to get married.”

Poe wasn’t disappointed. It was probably the worst thing he could say to him. Ben had carved a canyon size hole in his chest with his decision to marry someone else. It chafed and worsened every day, but now...now something entirely different was snapping. His hands curled into tight fists and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to hit Ben or...or…

“Yes, you are,” he said. His voice was level, even, and he met Ben’s gaze without flinching. “That was your choice.”

Ben was the first to look away. His eyes drifted to where the rainwater was washing inside the opening in the center of the hull and something inside of Poe withered. 

“Why didn’t you —” The words died on his tongue. He didn’t want to say them aloud because they make him sound weak and lovesick. He pushed them out anyway. “Why didn’t you choose me?”

A brief flicker of hurt passed over Ben’s features before he shuttered them again. “Leia wants —”

“Don’t give me that,” Poe snapped. “Leia married a _smuggler_. She isn’t forcing you to do anything.”

“Maybe not,” Ben sent him a truly regal look down the bridge of his red, blistered nose. “But I’ve spent most of my adult life running away from responsibility and duty to know that I can’t avoid it forever.” 

“Duty?” Poe’s tongue felt oddly heavy in his mouth. 

“Princes marry princesses,” Ben intoned, “or girls from noteworthy, politically prominent families.” Another twitch in Ben’s cheek and Poe wished desperately, choking on something very similar to panic, that he could turn back time and keep his damn mouth shut. “Not pilots.” 

Ben reclined, playing at relaxed and comfortable, and Poe couldn’t help himself anymore. He surged forward, closing the distance between them. He stood above Ben and fisted both hands in his shirt, watching the white material stretch and wrinkle under his grasp. Ben looked up at him and blinked. He lifted his hand as if he meant to seize Poe’s wrist or maybe shove him away, but it fell safely back to his side. Poe felt a strange sense of loss. He almost wished Ben would fight back. 

“Tell me why you’re doing this,” Poe demanded. Ben didn’t say anything, but a dangerous, dark look made something bright flicker in his eyes. His fingers finally came up and bit roughly into Poe’s arm. Pot gave him a not so gentle shake in retaliation. “Tell me.” 

“I was never going to be the person you wanted me to be,” Ben said. His voice was low, nearly a whisper. “I’m not…like you. Or my mother. I’ve never seen the appeal of worrying about the fate of the entire galaxy, but I can do this one thing.” The words were rushing out of him in a torrent now, swelling high enough to feel like they would swallow Poe whole. “I can marry the person they want me to marry because it’s what’s best for the people of New Alderaan. And I can try to...to...to be _good ._ ”

Poe looked at him, considering. The pain dissipated, stilted and loud, an echo in his ears. It was still there but it was more of a dull ache now that he knew it was something as simple as that. 

“Don’t marry her,” Poe’s voice was rough with emotion but surprisingly level.

“She has a name,” Ben said, coming back into himself for a moment. That air of smug regality was back and he finally pulled Poe’s hands away from his shirt. “Asteria. She comes from a very prominent family from Naboo. Her grandfather was a close confidant of —”

“I know who she is,” Poe replied. “Don’t marry her,” he repeated, desperately trying to regain control of the situation. This time, when his hands came up, his fingers twined into Ben’s hair. 

Ben cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“You know why.” 

Ben looked stricken, like he hadn’t expected Poe to say it, and in a way Poe hadn’t either. He leaned down and kissed Ben with enough ferocity to bruise his yielding mouth, yanking him forward and flush against him. Poe swallowed his gasp and felt the wetness of fresh tears not his own against his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, and Poe believed he was. And he should be. “I’m sorry,” he said again, between another rough kiss, his voice strained. 

Poe caught Ben’s bottom lip and relished his moan. It was better than any apology. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Wake up!” Poe shoved at his shoulder. “Wake up! Wake _up_!” 

Ben rolled, blinking awake with all the grandeur of someone of his station, which meant a jolt and a groan. He’d had the gravity of mind to fix what remained of his clothing before they’d fallen into an uncomfortable heap of strange, oddly-wired bliss on the floor of the ship. There was a harsh bruise sucked onto his neck in the shape of Poe’s mouth, and he remembered Poe’s calloused hand sneaking past the waist of his trousers, and using some of the water he had fetched to clean up afterward. At some point, Ben must have been covered with his heavy outer cloak to keep from shivering against the cold of the storm. 

Poe’s smiling face materialized above him. His hair was flat from the rain, plastered to the side of his face, and the wetness slid down his jawline and pooled in the hollow of his throat. He tugged Ben forward. Once they were both on their feet, Poe pulled him outside. 

Rain pelted them on all sides, but Poe streaked down the beach, kicking up sand as he went, and pointed. There was a sound above the swirling storm that was familiar. The hum of a ship’s engine. The hiss of exhaust vents. Ben realized that there was a ship landing at the other edge of the beach. It was sleek and black, and Ben felt that little touch at the back of his skull again. He knew, with the same resolute knowledge with which he could feel the Force thrumming in all living things, that Leia was on board. She had found them. 

Poe rushed back toward him, almost tripping in his haste. He wasn’t often ungainly or uninhibited, but there was a look of pure joy on his face that made something in Ben’s chest skip happily. 

“We’re saved,” Poe said. 

“Yes,” Ben agreed, and he almost smiled, too. “We are.”

“Saved!” Poe shouted one last time, and then he cupped Ben’s face and kissed him.

Ben chased after that feeling of pure glee he could taste on Poe’s lips, not caring if they were being watched by the beings disembarking the ship. The galaxy tilted along its axis and righted itself again and Ben...

Well, for the first time, Ben knew where he belonged. 


End file.
